An Invader Christmas Carol
by Merdina
Summary: A parody of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Zim learns that if he doesn't show a little mercy at Christmas time, none will be shown to him. Dedicated to my best friend.
1. The Tallest's Ghosts

**An Invader Zim parody of 'A Christmas Carol'** **by Charles Dickens**

An Invader Christmas Carol

Stave One - The Tallest's Ghosts

The Tallest were dead, to begin with. This was the main cause of the crease in the diminutive Invader's forehead, the reason he walked at a troubled pace down the freezing streets with his head bowed and his ruby eyes half-lidded over the violet contacts. He had only just been informed of this terrible news, via communicator by his dysfunctional robot servant. The Tallest, GIR had declared, were dead as a dingbat.

He found himself pondering, as he trudged through the swamp of snow that had been dumped on the filthy human street, exactly how dead the Tallest were required to be in order for them to be compared to a dingbat. And wondering exactly what a dingbat was. And, indeed, he found himself hoping that the dingbat in question was, in fact, alive and kicking.

But Zim knew that they were dead. Of course they were; they could not have fought so bravely against the Resisty forever, and it seemed that the long, toiling battles had claimed the two most important lives on the field. Zim knew that they had died, and for this he held them in highest esteem. The two most admirable names, he decided, were those of Tallest Red and Tallest Purple. Of course, these thoughts were automatically produced by his PAK, but that didn't stop the Irken from believing them with all of his heart.

And what an Irken Zim was. A cold, hard-hearted, merciless, eccentric, screaming, raving invader, who was as determined as he was incompetent and as unfeeling as he was insane. The thick green blood that ran in his veins held no warmth, and it showed in his glinting eyes and the cruel sneer that twisted on his lips. Distressed though he was at the death of his leaders, he could hardly help his self-satisfied smirk at the shivering humans that he passed. The chill didn't unduly bother Zim. His home planet, Irk was freezing, so he was used to it, and anyway, he didn't have time to be cold with his mission to think about.

He noted, as he made his determined way back to his base, that the people that passed him tried their hardest to ignore him. His dwarfish appearance, combined with his green skin and blatant lack of ears, made anyone who looked at him glance the other way quickly for fear of staring too long. Humans were so caught up with trying to be 'politically correct' that they made simple differences in appearance the most awkward situations Zim had encountered.

It was a dark and gloomy afternoon, and the thin chinks of light that slipped through the curtained windows in the neighbourhood left shining wounds in the eerie fog that had gathered. He could see the mismatched, uneven windows of his base glowing at the end of the street, and yet they seemed so far away. Now that nobody was around, and the fog was closing in, Zim had nothing to sneer at, and was instantly deflated. The Tallest, killed in battle, dead as dingbats. Gone. He lowered his head once more to stare obstinately at the brown, watery sludge that had once been pure, crisp snow. Such a revolting mess, like everything else on this crummy planet.

Something cold smacked into the back of his neck, and he straightened up at once. Zim screeched as the snowball melted to water, and stared around angrily for the guilty party. Out of the fog, clad in a black trench coat, a thick blue scarf with matching gloves and a bobbled hat came Dib. He was laughing at Zim's face, but the smile was wiped from his face as Zim started towards him, lifted him up with a spider leg and stuck a laser gun that he had drawn from thin air under his chin.

"Put… me… down," Dib choked, and Zim narrowed his eyes.

"And why would I want to do that?" he asked in an icy tone, twisting the gun slightly to remind Dib of the situation he was in.

"It's… Christmas…" the pale boy spluttered, turning purple, "Haven't you heard of… peace on Earth? Goodwill to all… men?"

"There shall be no peace on Earth under the watch of _Zim!_" Zim hissed back, "And you expect me to spare you for some pitiful HYOOMAN holiday?"

And yet, to Dib's eternal surprise, Zim dropped him with a sigh, turned away and trudged towards his base. The human gasped for breath like a landed fish, before leaping to his feet and hurrying after Zim. If opposing troops could sing carols together in no-mans land during the war, Dib figured, he could be civil with Zim. For Christmas, at least.

"Hey! Zim!" he called, as the Irken went through his gate. He turned slowly, his false eyes fixed lazily on Dib's.

"What is it, Dib-Stink?" he asked indifferently, and Dib picked up on the tone of his voice. Something had gone wrong; Zim seemed troubled. There was an awkward silence, during which Dib tried to think of what he wanted to say. Zim turned and continued up the path.

"Merry Christmas," Dib called, and Zim stopped and turned again.

"What?" he asked, in a low voice. Dib reached his gate.

"You… didn't kill me. So, Merry Christmas, I guess. Could we call a temporary truce, just for the holidays?"

Zim laughed; a harsh, humourless sound that grated like nails on a chalkboard.

"You take me for a fool, Earth-boy? You think I'll lay down my guard and my arms so easily? Because of Christmas?" he asked, before spitting bitterly onto the snow and adding a contemptuous, "Bah! Humans!"

Dib's face was flushed and ruddy from the cold and his breath billowed in front of him, adding to the clouds of fog that surrounded them. He gave Zim a look akin to pity, and sighed, sending another smoky rush in front of his face.

"You don't have anything like Christmas on your planet?" he asked, and Zim shook his head curtly. "Nothing at all? But Christmas is the most important time of year, for most humans at least. We don't fight at Christmas time. There's a feeling of… happiness," Dib said, cringing at how corny he sounded, but unable to phrase it any other way.

"HAPPY?" Zim shouted, "You humans and your filthy emotions! You would lay down all your defences for the feeling of HAPPINESS? How have you _not_ been taken over yet?"

"You don't get it," Dib sighed, "We'd put down our defences for one night of peace. Christmas…"

"You can keep your _Christmas_," Zim spat, "For all the good it'll do you." And, with a final "Bah! Humans!" he turned and stalked into his base, leaving Dib staring at the door momentarily before making his way back home. It was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow his father would be home for three hours in the morning, so he needed to be up early tomorrow. If he overslept and missed him, he would have to wait until next year to spend time with his dad.

Zim had barely slammed his door before there was a cheery knock at it. GIR, dressed in his green doggy suit, ran through from the kitchen and opened it, making an insanely happy exclamation when he saw who it was. Zim glanced up from the couch to see a young girl with a red trailer full of boxes. She had a huge grin on her face, and bent down to pat GIR on the head.

"Aw, you're a cute little puppy," she said, using the dripping, sticky, gooey voice that all humans use when talking to a pet or a baby, "Is your master home?"

Zim walked over to the door and glared at her.

"What?" he grunted and she straightened up, a little put out. However, she recovered quickly and regained her smile.

"Hi! I'm selling cookies to raise money for the homeless. You wouldn't like to buy some, would you? They're five dollars a box."

"Why do you expect me to give you my monies for _homeless_ people? Those dirty, smelly, ugly creatures that lurk in alleyways?" Zim asked, sounding shocked.

"Well… It's Christmas," she replied, and Zim looked as though he were about to pop a vein.

"Christ-MAS? What is it with you humans?!? You expect me to drop my guard and give you monies… Why can't you leave Zim alone?"

And with that, he slammed the door, to a long, drawn out cry from GIR.

"COOOOOOOOOOOOOOKIES!!!"

"NO, GIR! NO COOKIES! NO SNACKS! NO **NOTHING**!" Zim exploded, and the little robot promptly sat down, falling silent, a look of shock in his large azure eyes. He coughed, once, twice, three times, a strange noise for a robot to make. But he was a strange robot. He continued to hack and wheeze, sounding extremely unwell. Then, noticing Zim's annoyance at the sound, he picked himself up off the floor and scurried away.

It was the intense cold that was causing GIR's sickness; this winter was the coldest that the two had seen since they had landed on this pitiful excuse for a planet, but Zim hadn't gotten around to fixing him yet. And after the news of the Tallest's death, he really wasn't in the mood. Instead, he tried to call the Massive, to see if he could find out any more about the recent demise of the rulers of Irk. GIR hadn't been particularly informative. However, upon activating the communicator, he was met with a computerised message.

_This is the main-frame communications computer for the Massive. You have been placed on the Black-List for communications. You may not communicate with the Massive unless specifically contacted. _

Zim raised an eyebrow, confused. What could this mean? Why would the Massive block him from calling? And who had called and informed GIR of the Tallest? How long had he been on the Black-List, anyway? He hadn't called the Massive in quite a while, so busy had he been with the mission. In fact, it had been over one Earth month since he last called them. His thoughts were interrupted by enthusiastic singing from below the house.

"Dog bless three merry gentlemen, May nothing you display," came GIR's high-pitched voice, though it grated a little from the cold. Zim gave an angry growl and stormed over to the elevator that was hidden under a table, going down to the lab where the robot sang.

"GIR! Would you _please_ stop singing?" Zim asked with a dim sense of déjà vu.

When GIR didn't stop, he aimed a kick at the robot's leg, which caused him to giggle insanely, before having another coughing fit. Then he stood to attention, and his eyes changed colour. However, to Zim's surprise, he was not in duty mode, with a salute and narrowed eyes. And, indeed, his eyes hadn't turned red. Zim leaned in for a closer look and could scarcely believe what he saw.

In one of GIR's eyes was the face of Tallest Red. In the other was the face of Tallest Purple. A gentle light glowed around them, illuminating their expressionless faces, eyes and antennas quite motionless. They stood out lividly in shockingly bold colours, and yet they didn't look threatening. Zim stared at the robot's eyes wordlessly, unable to voice what he wanted to say. And then they disappeared, and GIR's eyes reverted to cyan. The whole episode had lasted less than two minutes. GIR continued to sing, and seemed quite unaware of what had happened.

The base seemed strangely quiet now; the countless machines working at a gentle hum, and the lighting dimmer than before. Zim glanced around, a feeling of unease deep in the pit of his squeedily-spootch. Whatever had just happened was not normal, even for GIR's standards. However, Irkens never show fear, so Zim gulped deeply and strode back towards the elevator with an overly-confident air, his head held high. The lounge seemed cold, colder than it had been before. He used his spider legs to boost himself onto the couch and glanced around again.

Nobody was under the table. Nobody was hanging from the pipes that made up the ceiling. Nobody was in the kitchen. And then the power went out. Zim wasn't scared of the dark; quite the opposite, but nonetheless the sudden overwhelming blackness of it all was unnerving. All the machines were off. The only sound was GIR singing, but now it echoed eerily around the silent base. Zim barely had time to wonder what had caused the blackout when the bell started ringing.

It was an alarm bell in the corner of the ceiling, old, rusty and disused. Whenever there was cause for alarm, the computer would notify Zim, but in case of emergency the old bell would ring. There was an intruder. Zim leapt up and grabbed a torch. Had Dib cut the power and snuck in? The bell increased its volume and the shrill alarm filled Zim's head, blocking all conscious thought. And then, just as quickly as the images of the Tallest had disappeared, the ringing stopped. However the base wasn't silent. Zim could hear a clinking, a dragging, rattling noise, down in the lower labs. It was an ominous sound that filled him with dread, and he shone the torch wildly around, illuminating the room and casting huge shadows on the walls.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Zim shouted.

The clanking noise continued, and Zim could hear it in echoing in the elevator shaft, getting louder, getting closer. The table lifted slowly, and an empty platform rose out. Zim shone the torch on it, staring at it in disbelief, as though somebody would appear right in front of his eyes. And then, right in front of his eyes, the Tallest stepped out of thin air. Zim gasped and backed away, and they laughed.

The laughter was as cold and cruel as the air around them, and Zim stared at them, trying to work out what he was seeing. There they stood, towering and spindly, dressed in their armour and hovering as they always did. But this wasn't the stationary hovering of a hover-belt; they bobbed gently up and down like corks. Chains were fastened to their wrist-cuffs and around their anorexic stomachs, rattling and clanking as they moved, and they were completely transparent.

"Surprised to see us, Zim?" asked Red snidely. Zim could only tell it was Red from his voice, for they held no colour.

"B…But you're dead," Zim stuttered.

"Well, would you look at that," Purple said, staring straight through his transparent arm in mock surprise, and they laughed again.

"Holograms," Zim muttered to himself, "Just holograms."

"Oh no, Zim, we're the real deal. Never let it be said that we don't do things in person," Red grinned.

"What do you want from me?" Zim asked boldly.

"Much," they replied as one, with symmetrical creepy smiles.

Their eyes were cold and glazed; the eyes of corpses, but they seemed able to see out of them perfectly. Even if he looked away, Zim could feel their gaze on him, an odd, freezing pressure against his skin. They had their long fingers steepled, and though their robes fluttered as though they were in a breeze, though Zim could feel no draught in the room.

"I still don't believe you're real," Zim said, gathering confidence, "Ghosts are a creation of the humans, to scare each other at sleepovers. P… Prove to me you're not holograms!"

"HOW DARE YOU QUESTION THE TALLEST?" Red bellowed, and as he shouted, his jaw dropped to his chest as though unhinged. Zim yelped and backed away sharply.

"You see, Zim, the bottom line is this," Purple said calmly, as Red pushed his jaw back upwards, his teeth clacking together as he did so. "Every being is required to show a little mercy in life, and if they don't, they are doomed to do so when they die. We have to wander the worlds, witnessing all that we have done wrong, but could have, had we tried. I'm not totally sure on all the facts; it's just what we got told after the escape shuttle exploded."

"And the chains?" Zim asked curiously, and Red sighed.

"We made these chains in life, forging each link with our sins," he said grumpily, "So, you know, being lazy and stuff. Jeez, you'd have thought they'd give a Tallest a break in the afterlife, but no…"

"Anyway," Purple cut in, "Your fate is the same as ours, Zim. You too will be doomed to spend the afterlife as we do. Captive, bound and double-ironed. But there is a way to change that fate…"

It was here that Red slapped Purple upside the head, a look of astonishment on his face. Zim watched with wide eyes as the two pushed and shoved each other until the chains around their wrists and waists tugged them violently away from each other and held them apart. Red glared at Purple angrily.

"Why are we telling Zim how to avoid this? I thought we were just coming to haunt him, I didn't think we were _helping_ him!" he demanded, and Purple rolled his eyes.

"Look, you know we're in this mess because we lied to him and banished him, we're supposed to show him some mercy or we'll never be spared from…"

"_Banished?_" Zim breathed, and Purple clapped a hand over his mouth with a melodramatic gasp. Red groaned.

"Now look what you've done, idiot! Look, Zim, the point is, you're going to be visited by three more apparitions, who'll make sure you don't get clapped in irons. And if you can't show a little mercy, you won't be shown any later on," he said seriously, before turning to Purple. "There, you happy now?"

"Three more ghosts?" Zim repeated breathlessly, and Red nodded.

"Yeah. The first'll come when the clock strikes one. Then one each hour after that. Right, now our job is done. Let's hit the road, Pur," he said, and they disappeared with a _pop_ and a flash of light.

Zim sank down onto the couch with a dull feeling of dread. Three more ghosts, three apparitions, or he too would be doomed in the afterlife. And the Tallest had _banished_ him? What did that make his mission? A fake? They had lied to him, but why would they do that? Down in the lab, GIR coughed loudly.

**Please review! I'll update this next Tuesday. **

**This is dedicated to my very bestest friend.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. The story 'A Christmas Carol' belonged to Charles Dickens. There's a link to read the original story on my profile, if you're interested.**


	2. The Skoodge Spirit

An Invader Christmas Carol

Stave Two – The Skoodge-Spirit

Zim sat uncomfortably on the couch, watching the clock on the wall. The Tallest had told him to expect the first spirit at midnight. It was 11:59. He had sat there for several hours, shivering slightly though he wasn't affected by cold. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that no amount of swallowing could remove, and his legs were tense, so tense they had locked at the knee as he sat there. As the clock beeped to mark the hour, he felt his organs disappear. A chill filled the base, and the wind howled outside, just once, in a mournful wailing noise.

Zim slowly turned his head to face the front door, and fixed his eyes on the door handle, watching it silently as it twisted back and forth. He didn't jump when the door flew open, as though it were caught in the wind. The room was instantly filled with a tidal-wave of light, light that filled every corner and hurt Zim's eyes even after he closed them. He slid off the couch as a figure emerged from the light, and opened his eyes properly when the door slammed shut, making a noise like a gun-shot and extinguishing the light at once. Zim stared at the figure that came toward him in disbelief.

It was a small figure, like a human child. As it drew closer, Zim could see it was even shorter than him, and that it was much fatter. Two antennas sprouted from its head, quivering and alert as though every sound they picked up interested their owner. Short arms were folded across its chest, and even shorter legs protruded from underneath a long, smock-like shirt that was the same colour as Zim's. There was a sprig of holly attached to one of the quivering antennas. Its face was completely expressionless, and yet there was no mistaking who it was.

"Skoodge?" Zim exclaimed, his fear dissipating as quickly as it had come, "What are _you_ doing here? This is _my_ planet; you had your chance with Blorch… And I'm waiting for a spirit, so leave or face the wrath of my EVIL MUTANT ATTACK MONKEYS!!!"

"I am the ghost of Christmas Past, Zim…" it began, and Zim shook his head defiantly.

"Nope. You are Skoodge. Feeble, idiotic Skoodge."

"We three spirits take the forms of ones you will recognise, Zim. I'm not really Skoodge; I'm just assuming his form. And I have come to show you the past," the spirit declared, his voice low and gentle. It had a slight echo to it, as though he were muttering in a church rather than talking normally.

"Irkens have no Christmas, Skoodge-Spirit. I have no Christmas past," Zim said smugly, and the spirit shook its head.

"You have spent one Christmas on Earth, Zim. But it's not your past I am going to show you," he said, and it held out a hand to Zim, grasping his thin arm. "Come with me."

Zim made no attempt to struggle against the spirit's grip. It was simultaneously as gentle as a baby's touch and as strong as a vice. The spirit led him up to the top of the house, where the Voot Cruiser was stored, and Zim wondered if he should ask how he had such informed knowledge of his base. He still didn't believe that this was a spirit, no matter what he had seen with the Tallest's ghosts.

"Where are we going?" Zim asked, and the spirit raised an eyebrow.

"The past. Where else?" the spirit replied. It would have sounded superior if it were possible to put feeling into its voice.

"How do we get there?"

"We fly."

"The Voot Cruiser has no time-displacement devices, Skoodge, as you know," Zim said edgily, and an emotion close to amusement flickered on the spirit's face.

"I said we were flying. I never said we were taking the Voot," it retorted, and the roof opened and the spirit rose in front of Zim, hovering as the Tallest had done. Zim could see it had no hover-belt or jet-pack. The colour drained from Zim's face like water draining from a bath.

"B…But I'll fall!" he said, trying in vain to keep the anxiety from his voice.

"If you take my hand, you shall fly as I do," the spirit said, its voice as comforting as it was expressionless, but Zim shook his head.

"The almighty ZIM shall not hold hands with _Skoodge_," he spat, sounding disgusted at the very idea.

"Then there is only one way for you to join me," the spirit replied, and this time it did sound amused. The sudden flood of expression on its face made Zim wish he hadn't refused the first option. It leant in and touched Zim's forehead.

Zim's antennas quivered, standing up vertically on his head. Zim's crimson eyes widened as the digits started to move of their own accord. There was a sudden jolt of pain as they folded in half, and then they started to spin, rotating slowly on his head. They span faster and faster, gathering speed until they whirled like propellers. Zim rose into the air, looking like a cross between an Irken and a helicopter.

"What have you done to Zim?!?" Zim shouted indignantly, and the spirit's eyes twinkled.

"Follow me, Zim," it said simply, and floated out of the open roof. Zim followed, glaring coldly at the spirit's back as he hovered behind, well aware of how ludicrous he appeared.

As they flew above the city, Zim noticed that they were following a route that he had walked many times. There was a bright light in the distance, which Zim regarded nervously. It was so bright that they would surely burn up if they attempted to fly into it, and yet the spirit that looked like Skoodge showed no sign of relenting. They drew closer and closer, until the light swallowed them whole and he could see nothing but pure, white emptiness.

When the light spat them out again, Zim found himself dumped roughly on the ground. He straightened his antennas, and though they had not hurt when they had spun as propellers, now that they lay still the pain was blinding. He squeezed his eyes shut. The spirit touched his forehead once more, and the pain melted away, as though sucked up by the weightless hand.

When Zim opened his eyes, the first thing that struck him was that it was no longer night-time. They were outside the Skool, and judging by the chill in the air and the swarm of happily screaming children that flooded from its gates, it was the start of the Christmas holidays. In minutes, the playground was empty. Zim looked around in confusion.

"Why have you brought me here? The Skool is deserted! I would be in my base," he asked the spirit, who shook its head.

"But this isn't all about _your_ Christmas past, Zim, though you do feature in it. And the Skool is not quite deserted. One solitary boy remains," the spirit said, and without another word it grabbed Zim's arm, and they stepped forwards to come out in a classroom which was empty but for one boy, his head bent low over a book he was studying. Zim's eyes widened slightly.

Dib's eyes skipped back and forth as he studied the book. Nothing, it seemed, could break his concentration from the yellowy pages that rustled underneath his frantic fingers. Zim cleared his throat and addressed him sharply, but he didn't look up. The spirit turned to Zim.

"These are the shadows of the past, Zim. They can't hear you or see you, though you can see them."

Zim walked slowly over to the desk, his footfalls echoing in the silent room. He reached Dib and looked over his shoulder to see the contents of the book. It was a book about extra-terrestrial sightings and theories about life on other planets. It was also a book that Zim had often seen Dib studying, but he seemed determined to continue to read it until he had memorized every page. The spirit coughed, and Zim turned to see it pointing towards the door.

The second Zim set his eyes on the door, it opened, and a girl younger than Dib stormed in. The room seemed to get colder as she entered, so icy was the glint in her eyes. Dib looked up from the book when the door slammed shut.

"Dib!" she snapped, "Dib! We have to go home now!"

"Home?" Dib asked, as though it was a foreign word, and Gaz glared at him from under her heavy purple bangs.

"Yes, Dib, _home_," she repeated, "Home now that it's the holidays. Now that we'll see a little more of dad. Come on!"

"Dad's home?" Dib asked, in a voice that was simultaneously happy and disbelieving. Gaz answered with a sharp nod, and he slammed shut the book and followed her to the door. The spirit gestured for Zim to follow, and when he stepped after the siblings through the frame, he found himself standing outside the Membrane's house, staring at a wreath on the door. Music played inside, loud and cheerful, and the constant vibration of conversation hummed like a swarm of cheery bees.

Zim heard the sound of footsteps coming up the frozen path behind him, and turned to see a scientist holding a large, brightly-wrapped present underneath her arm. She stepped straight through Zim, who felt as though a shadow had passed over him, and knocked sharply at the door. Professor Membrane himself opened it, and greeted her heartily.

"Professor Tarition! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Hi! I know; it's been too long," she said brightly, "But I've seen you on TV and read your interviews in _Atoms Today_; you've certainly been busy! Still, this is for you. Merry Christmas!" she added, handing him the box.

"Thanks," he said, holding it to his ear and shaking it.

"NO! That's highly unstable chemicals, it could…" she gasped, just before the box exploded, leaving fragments of a large conical flask on the floor.

When the acrid smoke cloud cleared, the two appeared to be fine, though slightly singed. They started to laugh, and Zim, under the spirit's instruction, walked around to the side of the house, where he could see Gaz looking over a wall and glaring at a bemused-looking dog. In the garden, Zim could see Tak's old ship, and Dib bustling around it excitedly.

"Pah," Gaz grunted, "Some Christmas party. Dad hasn't spoken to us since all the scientists arrived."

"Eh, its Christmas soon. We'll get to spend some time with him then," Dib mumbled, prodding the control panel of the ship with a screwdriver.

"What does this have to do with me?" Zim asked, and the spirit sighed.

"Dib rarely sees his father, Zim," he began.

"I know that," Zim said impatiently, "But why should the Dib-Human's problems bother me?"

"Could an idiot do _THIS?!?_" Dib asked loudly.

Zim turned to see Dib run forwards with a large cable, which he plugged into Tak's ship. A crazy frenzy of electricity sparked up, and the power flickered out, snuffing out the light like a candle. In the sudden blackness, Zim felt the spirit's hand on his forehead, and he found himself standing in a crowd and watching a giant robot fighting with a freakily mutated Santa suit.

"You showed no mercy that Christmas, Zim. You would have sent the entire planet to their dooms. And Dib never got to spend time with his father."

"But it was my duty - my mission - I had to do it, Skoodge-spirit. And why should Zim care about the Dib-Stink's Christmas?" Zim asked, an eyebrow raised. The spirit shook his head sympathetically.

"One more shadow, then," it said quietly, and touched Zim's forehead again.

Zim looked around a room that he had only seen on a communicator screen. He was inside the Massive, and he watched in awe as the Tallest, alive and well, sat on a couch and watched Zim on a screen with deadpan expressions.

"I am afraid, my Tallest, that the slaves I promised you are not coming after all," his past self said apologetically.

"You can't just promise us a planet's worth of slaves and then not send them, Zim," said Red testily, and Purple glanced up from a bag of doughnuts just long enough to add a resounding "Yeah!" before he continued to shove them into his mouth. The Zim on the screen nodded.

"I understand that, my Tallest, and that is why I shall try doubly hard tomorrow - and the day after that, and the day after that, all the way up until next Christmas if I have to - to serve the Empire, and you!"

"Sure thing, Zim," Red yawned, pressing a button and cutting off the transmission.

Zim's eyes widened once more; he had presumed that the Massive had passed a planet and the communication signals had become crossed. He had not considered the possibility that the Tallest had cut off the transmission willingly. After all, why should they? But having heard that they had abandoned him on Earth… Perhaps they had cut him off other times as well?

"We have _got_ to block that number, Red," Purple said, and Red nodded thoughtfully.

"But then what would we broadcast as entertainment across Irk? You know they love to watch Zim make a fool of himself."

"Doesn't take much to do that," Purple laughed, and Red smirked. Purple sighed. "Are we ever gonna tell him his mission's a fake, Red? It'd make great entertainment just watching his expression!"

"Oh no, Pur," Red said importantly, "If we did that, he might attempt to come back. We need him to stay there forever, thinking he's on a mission even if he's still there when another Tallest comes after us. It's a secret we'll take to our graves."

"Lies!" Zim said in a hoarse whisper, "Filthy lies, all of it!"

"You ruined Dib's Christmas for nothing," the spirit said solemnly.

The Tallest burst out into peals of laughter and Zim felt blood rushing to his face. How _dare_ they laugh at him? How _dare_ they lie to him, how _dare _they make a mockery of him to all of Irk? Just because they were the Tallest…

"Why would they do that?" he thought aloud, then, "What else did they do?"

The spirit touched his arm gently, but it turned him around with surprising force.

"You will not want to see this," it warned, but Zim glared so forcefully that it sighed and placed a claw on each of Zim's eyelids, drawing them over his eyes as though he were a corpse.

Instantly, images flooded his head, dancing tauntingly in front of his eyes. Each one was like watching a car crash. The Tallest, banishing him at the Great Assigning. Making GIR out of scrap parts. Laughing at him as his transmissions were broadcasted as entertainment. Betting on his life at Hobo 13. Planning to send him malfunctioning SIR units in the hopes that they would kill him. He could stand it no longer, and with some effort he opened his eyes, quickly scrubbing away the hot tears that had formed. He rounded upon the spirit and clutched its shoulders, shaking it violently.

"No more! Show me no more! Take me back to my base!"

The spirit touched his head one last time, and Zim fell, rushing downwards so fast that he wished he could spin his antennas and fly back upwards. He continued to fall until he landed upon the couch in the living room, with the sound of the Tallest's laughter ringing relentlessly in his head.

**Please review! The next chapter will be up on Saturday. **

**Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez. 'A Christmas Carol' was written by Charles Dickens. The link to the original story is on my profile.**


	3. The Keef Spirit

An Invader Christmas Carol

Stave Three – The Keef-Spirit

Sitting on the couch, Zim eyed the clock with nervously jerking eyes. It was still set to one. Evidently the spirits had power over time itself. His head was full of the past, and suddenly the Tallest's odd behaviour made sense. He had heard it said on this planet that the Truth hurts. Humans were right about one thing. Feelings long since shunned away by Irkens alike came rushing back to him as he lay in silence. Even the sound of GIR coughing would have lightened his mood, but the robot made no noise.

He began to wonder where the next spirit would come in, and his skin prickled at the thought of it. He didn't want to be taken by surprise; he would rather face it as an Irken than as a cowering human. He rolled from the couch and began to patrol the house, drawing open the curtains with a dull dread that he would see the spectre staring in, with empty eyes and a menacing grin.

He checked the kitchen thoroughly, before stepping into the elevator that was disguised as a toilet. The lower levels of the house spread out in all directions, and it would take a long time to check them all. However, he was distracted from his search by the sound of GIR. Zim peered around a corner to see the tiny robot curled on the floor of the lab, clutching a rubber piggy and snuffling in his sleep.

Zim looked at him bitterly. The Tallest had simply thrown him together out of scrap parts and some junk they had found in their pockets. He no longer saw the advanced technology he had usually thought of GIR as, though he had to admit that he had doubted GIR's value before now as well. How stupid he must have looked, to believe them when they had told him GIR was advanced. No wonder he had been so slow with his world conquest, when his robot slave was little more than animated trash.

He glanced up at the sound of a bell. The clock had struck two, but he couldn't have been patrolling for more than half an hour. The spirit was evidently impatient, and was decreasing his wait. Zim shivered slightly, but nothing appeared. No spirit, no ghost, no spectre. He trembled slightly, and waited. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, but still no spirit came forwards. He glanced up to see a bright light shining out of the elevator shaft, and edged towards it, deciding that the best thing to do would be to follow the source of the light. As soon as he stepped onto the platform, a familiar voice called his name. He winced. It was a voice that had struck dread into his heart more than once, and he suddenly dreaded seeing the spirit. Sure, it was only assuming their form, but still...

As the elevator entered the front room, Zim blinked in astonishment. The room he stepped out into was one that he vaguely recognised as his own, but it looked so different that it couldn't be. Decorations hung from every possible space, covering the walls with paper chains and wreaths. Holly and mistletoe glistened in the light, fat juicy berries like rubies and pearls. Within this glowing grotto there was a mountainous pile of all kinds of foods, some of which Zim eyed nervously, all of which he sniffed the air for appreciatively.

Mince pies, roast chestnuts, a pudding stuffed with plump raisins, an iced cake, crystallised fruits, turkey, sausages and all manner of meats, they were all stacked together to form a throne, and as Zim's eyes travelled up the pile he saw the spirit, who filled him with dread, though it smiled warmly at him.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Keef… You are the second spirit?" Zim said uncertainly, and he nodded.

"Only I'm not really Keef, Zim, the spirit's just assuming me! Isn't that great?"

"I…" Zim looked up, and yet, despite the chipper response and the warm smile, he couldn't meet the spirit's kindly shining eyes.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," the spirit said, changing its tone of voice to one that was more solemn and sober than Keef's excitable squeak, "Look at me, Zim."

Zim raised his eyes to look at the spirit's clothes. He wore a red robe, with white fur, and a wreath of holly around his head. His ginger hair stuck up wildly through this crown, and his cheeks were flushed and rosy. His eyes sparkled and his mouth was constantly smiling. He stood up, and Zim stepped forwards slightly.

"Keef-Spirit. I learnt many things with the Skoodge-Spirit. That I was lied to by the Tallest, that I ruined a lot of things for nothing. What are you going to show Zim?"

"Touch my robe," the spirit said simply, and Zim touched the red garment and clung to it tightly, in case they would be flying again. He had long since decided that a ship was the only way to fly, and didn't want a repeat of the antenna incident.

The second his gloved claw came into contact with the red material, Zim's base melted away, to be replaced by the stark, freezing street. Various sounds filled the air; the tooth-curling scrape of people shovelling snow, laughing children and cheery greetings as people made their way through the streets. The wind was maliciously cold, stinging the exposed ears and noses of the people that walked by and colouring them crimson, but it did nothing to alter the grins that they all shared.

Zim and the spirit made their way down the street into the town, and everything that Zim saw was of interest. Wreaths and blinking lights adorning the shops, the usual Santas that stood at every street corner, and the choir that sang in the square, their voices slicing through the thick, scented air, they all caught his eye and all captivated him. The smell of roasting turkeys and the rich fruity puddings was almost overpowering, dizzying to the senses.

But more curious than any of the sights, sounds and smells was the way that people that Zim knew to argue constantly were smiling at each other. Christmas, the spirit explained, was a time when differences were put aside, and Zim was reminded instantly of Dib's passionate speech about the merits of the holiday. Almost as though the spirit had read his mind, he found himself being led towards Dib's neighbourhood, and before he knew it, Zim was trudging up the familiar path to his nemesis' door.

Encouraged by a wave of the spirit's hand, Zim peered through the window to see Dib and Gaz sitting on a couch. Gaz was, though Zim couldn't believe his eyes, smiling, and holding a brand-new, new and improved Gameslave. There was a large tree in one corner of the room, decorated with gaudy ribbons and baubles and all other kinds of tacky rubbish that so captivated humans. So why was it that Dib looked so depressed?

It wasn't long before Zim noticed that one thing was missing; the Dib-Stink's father. No doubt the professor was already at work. Gaz passed Dib a present that she had taken from underneath the couch, and Zim heard his name. He stepped forwards, and found that he had stepped straight through the wall and into the room. Gaz continued.

"Maybe it'll help you with catching Zim or whatever it is you do," she said, and Dib unwrapped it lethargically. When he opened the box, however, his eyes widened and a smile crawled onto his face.

"Gaz! It's brilliant! Thanks!" he gasped, and Zim had to admit it looked better than the alien handcuffs that Dib had tried to catch him with before. Dib seemed to have taken leave of his senses, however, as he leant in and hugged his sister tightly.

"No problem," she said flatly, "Now get off or I'll have to kill you."

Dib sprang apart from her and started to read the packaging again.

"Video camera with direct feed option… I can show the Swollen Eyeball Network a live feed of Zim! They'll have to believe me… Can be disguised in clothing as a button… It's perfect," he muttered excitedly, and something close to an emotion twitched on Gaz's face.

"So, a better Christmas than you were expecting, huh?" she asked, and Dib nodded distractedly, looking out of the window. His face had paled.

"Gaz… there's a lot of smoke outside," he began, tracing the thick, spiralling clouds with his finger, "I think it's coming from dad's lab…"

Gaz raised an eyebrow impassively, but it was at that moment that there was a massive explosion outside. The coverings of snow on the roofs flew upwards as the lab blew up, and melted as a fireball blazed out, leaving a flurry of water trickling from everyone's roofs and freezing on the street. That was when the screaming started. Dib's lip trembled and his eyes had turned to huge globes with shock. Gaz picked up the phone, and Zim thought he saw her hand shaking, though it must have been a trick of the light.

"Keef-spirit," Zim said urgently, cursing himself for the anxious tone in his voice, "What happened?"

"You happened," the spirit said quietly, and he said no more.

Zim looked to Gaz. She was dialling a number on the phone. She pressed 9. She pressed 1, and as her finger came down to press the 1 once more, a strange metal object smashed through the window. Wires came from the metal projectile, sinking into walls, floors and ceilings, searching the house and sparking profusely, sapping electricity until the power went out. The phone went dead in Gaz's hand. Dib stepped towards the object and touched it curiously, jumping backwards when a screen came from it. Crazed laughter flooded the room and Dib's eyes narrowed. There was no mistaking that laugh.

"Hello there, Dib! And the female-Dib too!" the on-screen Zim smirked, his eyes shining maliciously at the pair as he looked through the screen at them.

"Zim," Dib said weakly, disbelievingly, "What did you do?"

A zipper-like smile twisted into place on his face.

"I knew what you were trying to do with that little speech, Dib," he began, "Saying how you would lay down your arms and defences at Christmas. I knew even _you_ wouldn't be that stupid, Earth-boy, and I realised what a stinking pack of lies it was! You wanted to catch Zim off guard. Lull me into a false sense of security and ATTACK!!!"

"You're crazy," Dib noted, and Zim laughed.

"Maybe I am, just a little bit," he said, his eyes creepily wide, "But does it matter if I've been banished?"

Dib looked puzzled, and Gaz stepped forwards, pushing him out of the way to get closer to the screen. Her eyes were narrowed to slits.

"What did you do to our power? And what happened to dad's lab?" she growled, and Zim's smile widened.

"To make sure you couldn't attack, I've sabotaged anything electrical in your filthy little house. Nothing, not even that… camera-thingy you're holding, will work," he said smugly, before adding in a spooky whisper, "And your father unit's base? I've been looking for something to test my new _doom missiles _on."

He started to chuckle before breaking out into hysterical peals of humourless laughter. Gaz sank into a chair, a look of shock on her face. It was an expression that she had never shown before, and it didn't suit her. Dib's face contorted into an expression of fury, though his eyes showed despair.

"You… _killed_… him…" he said in horror, and the laughter stopped.

"Well observed, Dib-Stink," Zim smirked. "Merry Christmas," he added poisonously, and he cut the transmission. Dib broke down into tears, and Gaz touched his arm lightly, clearly all the comfort she was willing to give.

"He was going to come home for Christmas dinner," Dib sobbed. Gaz squeezed her eyes shut, desperate not to cry herself.

"Zim. Must. Die," she said, spitting each word into a separate sentence. Dib looked up and nodded, before leaping to his feet. He scrubbed his tears away in a single violent swipe, and gulped deeply.

"You're right, Gaz. And I promise that from this day forth, Zim shall not live to find out the meaning of _Merry Christmas_," he said, his voice low and trembling, "And even if it takes me until next Christmas, I will not rest until his corpse lies on an autopsy table."

"He'd better be alive on that table," Gaz spat, her eyes fiery with the sting of solitary tears, and her jaws and fists clenched, "And I'll be holding the scalpel."

Dib rolled his eyes to meet his sister's. He had a look of astonishment, the grief of his father's death momentarily wiped from his face.

"You mean…"

"A team, Dib, you and me. United for revenge," she said quietly, and Dib nodded.

"Yeah," he said, before shouting as loud as possible, "REVENGE!"

Zim dragged himself away from the conversation, turning to look at the spirit. He wasn't sure why, but he felt slightly sickened by what he had seen. It was the early hours of Christmas morning now and later on he would kill the professor and ruin Dib's Christmas for the second year in a row. He could draw no pleasure from the fact that his plan would work perfectly. He had seen what Christmas meant to Dib now, and though he wasn't accustomed to feeling this way, he felt… sorry for the human.

"They won't succeed, though, will they?" Zim asked the spirit, slightly nervously, "I have a base, and the lawn-gnomes, computer and GIR for security. They cannot kill ZIM!"

"I see only the present, Zim, not the future," the spirit replied, before adding in a warning tone, "But I suggest that you take a closer look at your SIR unit before you put all your faith into its security."

They stepped through the wall of the Membrane house, and Zim found himself in his base, in front of a transmission screen, watching as his twin stood before it, laughing, and Dib and Gaz could be seen on the screen. As Zim smirked and laughed at the siblings, GIR came into the room. The robot's leg didn't seem to be connected any more, as instead of the usual tinkle of his light, bouncy footsteps, there was a _clunk_ and a scraping as he dragged the leg across the floor. His eyes were shining dully, the once bright azure bulbs now barely glimmering as he stared around the room.

Zim watched the tiny robot with cold eyes. He wondered how his slave could have fallen into such a state of terrible disrepair over such a short space of time, but remembered painfully a second later. He wasn't a real SIR unit, just something that had been thrown together. Of course he would break easily, and why should Zim trouble himself to fix him if he was never supposed to be made in the first place? Perhaps it would have been better without GIR to start off with.

Zim's doppelganger cut the transmission and turned around, chuckling to himself slightly as he did so. GIR looked up eagerly, flickering eyes round and hopeful. He turned and dragged himself back towards his master, coughing loudly as he did so.

"Master, can you fix me now?" he asked brightly, his voice fuzzy and faded as though he were a badly tuned radio. Zim glared at him.

"Not now, GIR! Can't you see that the Zim is busy?"

"I can't see much," GIR said, his voice surprisingly chipper despite his constant coughing, "Except piggies. And shadows. Shadows of piggies!"

Both Zims raised an eyebrow, and GIR coughed so hard that screws came from his mouth. The other Zim made his way out of the room, leaving the 'real' Zim and the spirit alone with GIR. Zim watched as his robot extracted a rubber moose from his empty head, squeezing it for a while, giggling and wheezing.

"A child-like innocence, and a human-like stupidity," the spirit said quietly, "But that doesn't make him any less loyal or any less deserving of your mercy."

"Zim has no use for the Tallest's broken toys," Zim said wearily, "Why should I fix what was never supposed to work in the first place?"

"There's always use for a friend, Zim," returned the spirit, "And you need one all the more."

Zim fell silent at these words, and though he tried he could not come up with a reply. The misty, translucent eyes bored into the back of his neck as he bowed his head, but he could not meet them. They spoke the words he knew were true. Though he always maintained that an invader needed NO ONE, he had grown so used to having GIR around that he would crumble without his loyal servant at his side. Especially now that he knew that GIR was all that he had on this planet. He was banished, exiled, and alone. If GIR died, he really would be alone. He looked up to the spirit as though it could bring comfort to him, but found him, to his horror, to be fading.

"Keef-Spirit! Where do you think you're going?" Zim demanded, and the spirit gave him a kind smile.

"My time on this planet is short. One spirit has yet to visit you, Zim. They shall arrive when I depart, and however much you fear it, you must go with them if you are to be spared."

"Zim fears nothing. NOTHING!"

"Then you will go forth to see your fate with an open mind and an open heart. See ya, buddy," the spirit said, and with that it disappeared. The front door flew open.

Zim turned around. Illuminated by the moonlight in the dark doorframe there stood a tall, hooded phantom, two-dimensionally thin with long, billowing robes draped around it. Its face was obscured. It may as well have been carrying a scythe and an hourglass for all the comfort that it brought Zim. It advanced towards him. The door slammed shut.

**Please review! The next chapter will be up on Tuesday.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. 'A Christmas Carol' was written by Charles Dickens. The link to the original story is on my profile.**


	4. The Bitters Spirit

An Invader Christmas Carol

Stave Four – The Bitters-Spirit

Zim quavered as the phantom glided slowly towards him, one bony arm outstretched. Everything around it was cold; the air seemed to freeze the back of Zim's throat as he took in ragged breaths, edging away from the spectre. It wore a long black garment and a hood that covered its face, and it moved towards him like an advancing shadow. When Zim reached the wall and could back away no further, it removed its hood.

The spectre's features leapt from the shadows; the glinting eyes, the yellowing, wrinkled skin and the hair coiled on top of the head in a bun so tight it raised the greying eyebrows. Zim gasped. He knew exactly who the latest phantom was, and he feared it all the more now that he could see the form it had assumed.

"Ms Bitters?" he gulped, but the phantom simply observed him with empty eyes, unspeaking, unfeeling. "Are you the ghost of Christmas that has not yet been?"

The ghost emitted a slow hiss, eyeing Zim blankly. He shuddered. The teacher-drone had been one of the few humans that he was remotely wary of, though he wasn't sure if she was really a human. A shadow might be a more suitable conclusion. Now that she stood before him, ominous and hissing, eyes as lifeless as a corpse behind her sharp spectacles, she was close on terrifying. Even the toughest of the Irken Elite would feel dread if they were faced with her.

"Bitters-Ghost, I fear you more than any spirit I have seen. But I must know what the Dib and his filthy sister will do. I shall go with you to the future, if you can save me," Zim stuttered, and the spirit stared at him blankly. The silence was overwhelming. "Why don't you speak to me?"

The spirit pointed towards the door and hissed.

"SPEAK TO ZIM!!!" Zim shrieked hysterically, but there was no reply. He sighed, looking down at the floor for a second, before looking up slightly more confidently. He strode towards the door, and the spirit clenched his shoulder, spreading ice through his very flesh at its touch. They stepped out of the door, onto the street outside. But something was very different.

Zim couldn't put his finger on it from just looking at the street, but it seemed… desolate. Deserted, though there were people. No, lifeless would be a better conclusion. Snow was pouring down, but Zim couldn't feel it against his skin. There were many people in their gardens, wrapped up in their fuzzy, striped sweaters and ridiculous scarves. Some threw snowballs, some made snowmen. But all of them made sure that, wherever they looked, they directed their view away from his base. He turned to look at his base, but the phantom hissed sharply and pushed him.

The Bitters-spirit forced him forwards, and they walked down the street and into the town, away from the base. Zim wondered where they were headed. Everyone that they passed avoided the street where his base was situated, and hurried past the entrance. With a bony finger, the Bitters-spirit pointed towards a small gathering of men, under umbrellas, and Zim walked over curiously.

"…I don't know much about it," the first man said, "I only know that it's true."

"Really? I thought that it was just a babbling reporter getting over-excited. Newspapers exaggerate everything these days," another replied, and the third shook his head violently.

"No, no, it's true! I don't know what they're doing with it, but my guess is they'll cut it up. Hopefully there'll be photos though… It's something I'd like to see for myself."

"Hell, it's something I'd _pay_ to see for myself," the first man put in, and the others nodded. They glanced nervously in the direction of Zim's cul-de-sac, shuddered and walked off, leaving Zim staring after them curiously. He glanced back to the spirit for an explanation, but still it stood silently, almost obstinately, and stared through him blankly. Zim followed its gaze, turning to see Gretchen sitting on a wall. Keef, no longer a spirit, walked by, grinning dementedly.

"Hey, Gretch!" he said happily, "Did I tell you about my buddy?"

"Uhm, yeah, you did," Gretchen said uncertainly, and Zim rolled his eyes, ready for a long episode in which Keef would sing praise to the almighty _Zim's _every move. However, it never came.

"My buddy Dib, he's the best! He and his sister, they captured…"

"You already said, Keef," Gretchen lowed. She had a cold, and sounded like a foghorn. She shivered. "It's really cold, isn't it?"

"Well, it is December. Merry Christmas!!!" Keef squeaked, before scurrying off, muttering about Dib. Zim raised an eyebrow, turning back to the spirit. Why had Dib befriended Keef? Maybe he had grown bored of being a loner, and went out in search of a friend? The spirit pointed towards the Shopping Mall with a steady conviction that made Zim sure that he would find all the answers there.

As Zim walked through the sliding doors into the Mall he could see straight away that something was wrong. There was a large crowd of children, all seemingly captivated by the person that stood in the middle of them, talking loudly. Even from the entrance there was no mistaking that voice. Dib. And yet, nobody was ridiculing him, correcting him, shouting him down. Nobody shouted, or even whispered that he was crazy, and when he finished the story there were laughs. Torque thumped him playfully on the back. Dib walked away, beaming.

"Hey, Dib! Where're you going?" one of the girls called.

"Look, you guys, its Christmas Eve! I'm not gonna hang around here all day, there's something I need to do. I'll see you later," he replied, and walked off, giving a quick wave. He walked straight through Zim and out of the door, and Zim glanced up at the spirit, who pointed after the boy. Zim followed.

To his surprise, Dib didn't set off home, but instead he walked down the streets that Zim had just come down, heading to where Zim's base was located. Dread struck Zim the second he saw his base. Smashed windows and a boarded-up door greeted him from the outside, his lawn-gnomes in pieces and the tree dead and burnt. Dib walked around the back of the house, unlocking the padlock that held the back door closed. He shut it in Zim's face, but he found that he could simply walk straight through the wood.

Upon seeing what had happened to the base Zim turned to leave, but the Bitters-ghost stood in the way and pointed forwards, hissing so violently that Zim didn't know which way to turn. Into the spookily trashed base, or towards the terrible spectre that glared down at him? It was a difficult decision, but in the end, after a lot of dithering, Zim turned back and walked shakily into the pitch-black kitchen. The bin was open, and a flickering light pulsed out of it, followed by a laughter so deranged and malicious that it was worthy of Zim's own.

He glanced around. The wallpaper had long scratches scoured into it, scratches that had left deep welts in the thick metal walls that were behind it. They looked as though they had been left there by the spider legs of an Irken PAK. The furniture had been ripped up in the living room to reveal the secret entrances to the lower base, and the communications screen had been smashed. Doubting that he could find anything more ominous in the lab, Zim closed his eyes and jumped into the bin.

When he came out, Zim realised exactly how wrong he had been. Dib had ripped up most of his laboratory, and in the centre of the room was a small cage. At the top and bottom of the cage were powerful magnets, and the future Zim was hovering in the centre of it, held up by the magnetic fields. His eyes were closed, and his antennas drooped forwards in front of his face. He was the very picture of lost hope, and had clearly given in and resigned himself to his fate a long time ago. Zim looked at his future self in disgust, unable to believe that he had given up, that he had been captured by the human.

Dib pressed a button, and the electro-magnets turned off, dumping Zim unceremoniously on the floor. He pulled himself slowly to his feet, standing shakily and watching Dib with furious eyes. He laughed, spitting at Zim's feet contemptuously. Zim noticed that in one corner of the room there was a large crate with the words _Doom Missiles_ marked on it. He shuddered.

"Hello _Zim_," Dib sneered, "How are you today?"

"Why don't you kill me already?" the future Zim asked in a low, croaky voice.

"I've kept you here for seven months," Dib began, "Do you know what today is?"

He shrugged, and Dib laughed.

"Why, Zim, today is Christmas Day! Can you feel the holiday cheer, down here in your dungeon, space-scum?"

Zim's future self simply stared sadly through the bars, dejection personified. He didn't have to say anything in order for his captor to tell how he was feeling, something that Dib knew well. At that moment, the spirit dragged Zim away from the scene to point at one of the many entrances to the lab. Gaz walked in, dragging something behind her. She was grinning evilly.

"Hey, Dib. Look what I found," she said, her voice twisted with cruel laughter. Dib looked up, but the future Zim simply stared indifferently at the floor.

"Oh my," Dib smirked, "This _is _perfect."

Zim stared, horrified, at what the siblings were looking at. He knew _exactly_ what Gaz had found, and he prayed to sweet Irk that his future self didn't look up. He had a feeling that it just might finish him off. Holding him by one arm, dragging his limp metal body across the floor, Gaz pulled GIR into the room. He coughed weakly, and opened his eyes, now dim pin-pricks of blue, like lights at the end of long tunnels.

"M…Master?" GIR stuttered, and the caged Zim's eyes flew open. His antennas stood up and he turned sharply.

"GIR?" he whispered hoarsely, "No! I told you to stay hidden!"

"I found him hiding under a table in a locked room. It's taken this long to force the door open," Gaz said maliciously, and Zim shook his head.

"Leave him alone," he said, and Dib grinned.

"Tell you what, Zim. I'll strike a deal with you. Humans like to play games at Christmas. Why don't we play a little game with your robot?"

"What?" Zim said in a low voice, and Gaz laughed sharply.

"How about a little game of blind… mans… buff?" she asked, tugging the bulbs of GIR's eyes straight out of his head as she did so. Both Zims cried out, and GIR screeched loudly.

"MASTER!" he yelled, "Everything's dark!"

"If he can find you, you can keep him," Dib said loudly, and GIR stumbled around the room. Gaz took him by the shoulders and span him violently on the spot.

"Master! Help me!" he squealed.

The future Zim rattled the bars of his cage as hard as he could, trying to coax GIR towards the sound, but the noise frightened the robot and he fell over, crying like a child. Dib kicked the robot's broken leg, which fell off, and the 'real' Zim ran forwards, aiming punches at the human that sank straight through his skin. The future Zim was shouting, angry and sickened beyond belief as GIR attempted to drag himself across the room.

"Master! I don't like it, I don't like it," he bleated, "_I don't like it!!!_ I don't… like… it…" His voice grated, and he coughed, continuing to repeat himself as his voice faded to nothing. The light in his eyes was extinguished, he fell limp, and Zim could feel hot tears on his face.

"GIR! NO!" he and his future self screamed simultaneously, and both Dib and Gaz laughed.

"So much for _mighty_ Irken technology," Gaz said indifferently, and Dib nodded his agreement.

"You… _killed_… him," the caged Zim spat, yellow tears rolling down his cheeks, and Dib narrowed his eyes.

"Well observed, Space-boy," he smirked, adding in a poisonous voice, "Merry Christmas."

The siblings left the lab and turned out the lights as a long, drawn out wail, screeching, rasping and anguished flooded the room. They left the Zims in the dark. Over the strangled sobbing of his future self, Zim turned to the spirit, his heart beating wildly. He couldn't believe what he had seen, he daren't believe it.

"Spirit! Spirit, I can take no more!" he wailed hysterically, "Take me away from this place!"

The Bitters-phantom hissed, touching his shoulder as icily as it had done before. Zim pulled at its robes imploringly.

"Tell me, spirit; please tell me that I can change this fate! Tell Zim that there is still enough time to set things right!" he continued manically, and the spirit raised a hand to point at the case marked _Doom Missiles_. Zim drew in a gasp and tugged the robe again. "I _will_ show mercy to Dib this Christmas, next Christmas, _every_ Christmas! I will live in the past, present and future! Please, spirit, allow me to change this fate!"

In his passionate desperation, Zim grabbed hold of the icy hands of the Bitters-spirit, which pushed him away sharply. He watched as it began to shrink, changing shape, until it became a large standing lamp. He pulled the switch, and light flooded back into the room. He was in the living-room, on the couch, gripping a torch tightly in his hand.

**AN**

**Please review! Only one more chapter to go now! **

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. 'A Christmas Carol' belonged to Charles Dickens. The link to the original story is on my profile.**


	5. The Way It Was

An Invader Christmas Carol

Stave Five – The Way It Was

It was true! The room was Zim's, the torch was Zim's, the base was Zim's! But best of all, time was Zim's, for him to set things right and stop the terrible future he had seen. There were no rips in the wallpaper, no upturned tables, and as he sprinted to the laboratory, he found there to be no insane, revenge-driven Dib in sight. Nor would there be, as long as he showed him the mercy he deserved at Christmas.

"Anything to stop that future," Zim muttered to himself. "And as for _these_…" he added, picking up the crate of Doom Missiles. He placed the crate into a launcher and blasted it into space.

---

Location: The Massive

Induction of Tallest Puce

Tallest Puce sat on a couch, watching the interactive holograms of the previous Tallests, Red and Purple. Comprising of a database that the Tallests had logged over their rein, as well as Artificial Intelligence and a Voice Bank, it would answer any questions she had about her new position. It was amazingly accurate, even down to the smallest details. The artificial Tallest Red had been checking her out and drooling since she had engaged the programme.

"And what about the exiled Invader Zim?" she asked, sipping green, frothy liquid from a tall glass.

"Whatever you do, do _not_ allow him to contact you. Keep him on the black-list at all costs, and ensure he is banned from all Irken territory," Red advised, and Purple nodded fervently.

"Oh, c'mon. What could he possibly do?" she asked, disbelievingly. It was at that moment that a tremendous explosion was heard, and the entire ship shook violently. The green liquid spilt all over her, and an army of servant-drones came flooding into the room.

"My Tallest! A large crate of Doom Missiles just impacted with the side of the ship!"

"Computer, track the original location of the crate," she ordered, and the holographic Tallests turned to look at the words on the screen.

_Planet Earth. Base of exiled Invader Zim._

"Don't say we didn't warn you," said Purple as she turned off the holographic projector.

---

Zim looked around his base and smiled. It was the warmest, most heart-felt smile that had ever snaked onto his lips, and he positively glowed from it. And when he heard the musical sound of a high-pitched, innocent, robotic giggle, Zim knew that he had never felt more content than he had at that moment. Was this what Dib had meant about happiness at Christmas? GIR continued to giggle wheezily.

"GIR!" Zim said loudly, "Come down to the lab! I need to fix you if we are to continue with the mission."

GIR squealed in delight and ran after Zim, skipping around his legs as they walked down to the lab. For two hours Zim toiled away, arranging wires, thawing GIR's voice simulator and even buffing the metal until the tiny robot shone like silver. Finally Zim stood his metal friend up and wrapped an azure scarf around his neck.

"So you don't get cold," he explained as GIR gasped and snuggled the woolly garment.

"I lurve you, master," the robot exclaimed, hugging Zim's leg.

"Merry Christmas, GIR," Zim said awkwardly, but he didn't push GIR away. He wrapped a red scarf around his own neck and set off towards Dib's house, GIR still clinging to his leg.

They made their way down the street, GIR's scarf clashing wonderfully with his green doggy suit, and as they drew closer to Dib's street, Zim felt an excited tugging on his leg. Glancing down, he saw GIR staring determinedly at someone at the other end of the street. He followed the gaze to see a familiar little girl dragging a red trailer determinedly through the snow.

"Hey! Hey, you! Cookie-Girl!" he called and she looked up frantically, recognising his voice at once. He walked over and looked at the pile of boxes in the trailer. It was the same size as it had been the day before.

"What do you want?" she asked grumpily, her voice leaving a ghostly trail in front of her as it cut the frozen air.

"You haven't sold many boxes," Zim said, an eyebrow raised, and she glared.

"No thanks to you," she said, before adding balefully, "And my dad won't let me open my presents until I've sold them all."

Not picking up on the hinting tone to her voice, Zim simply shrugged. GIR was bouncing excitedly on the spot, looking at the cookies as though they were the only thing that mattered to him. They probably were. Zim shot him an irritated glance, tugging at the leash to try and stop him, to no avail. Finally, he sighed. He knew that the only way to stop GIR was to give him what he wanted.

"I'll take them all," he said, and the girl looked up sharply.

"What?"

"Give the cookies to Zim, foolish human," he said bluntly, and her face lit up. He pulled a handful of freshly-printed notes from his PAK, throwing them on the floor in front of her. She scrabbled for the money at his feet, shoving the crisp notes into her pocket.

"I'll throw in the trailer for free," she beamed, "Merry Christmas!"

Zim watched her as she practically skipped down the street, smirking as she slipped on a patch of ice. GIR leapt into the trailer, sitting on top of the boxes and shoving cookies into his mouth as Zim pulled it behind him. It was harder than it looked to drag it through the snow, but eventually he reached Dib's door. He glanced behind him to see the roof of Membrane's laboratory, and sighed. He knocked at the door, and it was wrenched open before the sharp taps had time to echo in the house.

"Hey, Dad, you're early…" Dib said, trailing off when he saw who it was. "Oh. What do you want?" he spat.

"I… Wanted to call a truce. Just for the holidays," Zim said eventually, and there was an awkward silence.

"You didn't want to yesterday," Dib said, sounding slightly wounded and extremely suspicious, "Why should I believe you now?"

"IDIOT HUMAN!" Zim exploded, sounding scandalised, "Zim would not lie about this! Not when so much is at risk!"

Dib raised an eyebrow, giving Zim an icy glare.

"If you think you can take over the world by such an obvious lie, Zim, you're more stupid than you look. Go home. I don't want to waste my Christmas talking to you," he said coolly, and Zim's eyes narrowed.

"I can still kill your father, Dib-Stink. There's still time for that," he warned, before adding in an odd voice, "But I'll give you exactly what you deserve this Christmas."

Dib slammed the door in his face, and Zim stormed off back to his base, muttering darkly about humans, stupidity and doom for all, Christmas or not. Dib turned back to Gaz, rolling his eyes as he did so. She reached under the couch and brought out a parcel. As he ripped it open to find a button-camera, he forgot all about the raving invader. It wasn't until much later, when he was washing up after a spectacular Christmas dinner and he heard another knock at the door that he gave Zim a second thought.

He walked through the house and opened the door slowly, ensuring his button-camera was switched on in case he could catch Zim on film. However, nobody was around. A small, poorly-wrapped parcel stood on the doorstep, with a messily-scribbled note attached to it. He bent down and picked it up, squinting through his thick glasses as he tried to decipher the spidery writing.

It read:

_Dib-Stink,_

_You may not like this any more than I do, but whether or not you choose to it, a promise is a promise. Mercy is something rarely shown by any Irken, so feel honoured that you are subjected to my mighty benevolence. Make the most of it, filthy human, it will only happen once a year._

_I said I'd give you what you deserved this Christmas. Believe me when I say you are getting much more than that._

_Almighty as ever,_

_Zim_

Dib raised an eyebrow and pulled the paper off the parcel, to find a box of cookies. He smiled.

"Aawwww, he's happy!" squeaked GIR as he and Zim watched from the end of the street, out of sight from the human. Zim nodded.

"He'd better be, GIR. I spared his filthy father for him," he said, before adding, as an afterthought, "Y'know, this would be a good time for a closing statement. Something to sum up everything that's happened this Christmas."

"God bless us, everyone," GIR said simply, his newly-repaired voice simulator putting an enormous amount of meaning into each word. Zim looked down with a raised eyebrow.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, GIR. Anyone would think this was a happy ending."

And that, dear reader, is the way it was.

**AN**

**Please review, and MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone! Hope you enjoyed reading.**

**As I have already said, this story is dedicated to my best friend. Loz, if you're reading this, I love you, and hope you enjoyed this the most.**

**Invader Zim belongs to Jhonen Vasquez. 'A Christmas Carol' was written by Charles Dickens. **


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